Little Girl Playing with the Devil
by Becks Rylynn
Summary: Everyone else sees a hero in him, but all she can see is the monster. WARNING: Deals with mature subject matter.


_AN: Okay, so this story definitely needs an introduction. First of all, I wrote it when season three was airing, but I just found it a few days ago, and I decided to finish it. This story was so hard to write (read it and you'll know why) and it really took me out of my comfort level. Just to warn you, there is no happy ending. This story was designed to disgust you. To make you feel like something's crawling under your skin. They are very out of character, but that was sort of the point of the story. Anyways, this story does deal with __**mature subject matter**__, so the faint hearted turn away._

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, or any of the characters.

**_Little Girl Playing with the Devil_**

She thinks she should be stronger then this. She thinks she should be able to break away from his hold and be strong again, but she doesn't know how. Their lives are complicated, her and Dean. It's an unhealthy relationship at best. Not even a relationship, really. Everytime they see each other, they end up beating the crap out of each other. That's hardly a relationship.

Nothing ever changes, time drags at snail speed, his time starts to run short, and she starts to _feel_ when she shouldn't. They're not good feelings. Just anger, and worthlessness, and something else. It takes her a long time to realize it's fear she's feeling.

The fights, the beatings, are starting to come more frequently, and when he hurts her, she finds herself taking it. She stops fighting back, and starts playing a role. The role of a battered girlfriend, weak and pathetic, and not at all like the person she should be. She's starting to become_ afraid _of him.

One night, _everything_ changes.

She's at a bar, just some dirty dive, trying to get drunk because she doesn't like feeling this way. She doesn't like not being in control. And then he slides onto the barstool next to her, and whispers in her ear. ''Long night, Ruby?''

His voice nearly sends her crashing, because lately, she's had this feeling, like she's not really here, like none of this is real. But when his voice fills her head and she breathes in deeply and all she breathes is him, she comes crashing back down, and she doesn't know how to be anywhere _but_ here. Her heart thuds loudly in her chest as she scrambles to regain a little bit of control. Finally, she manages to plaster a semi shaky smirk on her face. ''Well, well, well, Dean Winchester, to what do I owe this pleasure?''

He scowls in response and loses himself in whiskey, green eyes moving over her shoulder. ''I don't like how that guy's looking at you.''

She turns, just to get away from his gaze, because it feels like it's slicing into her. ''He's not bad. He'd be okay, for a night or two.'' And that was the _wrong_ thing to say.

A strong hand latches onto her arm, so tightly she has to clamp her lips together just to keep from yelping. ''No,'' His voice says in her ear, and it's nearly a growl. ''You don't go near him.''

''Why not?'' Her insides turn to mush, and she can feel sickness rising inside of her. ''It's not like I-I'm...._yours_.''

He pulls her to him roughly, and brings his lips inches away from hers. ''Wanna bet?''

She draws her lips into a thin line, trying to look angry as she narrows her blue eyes. ''Let go of me.'' And by the way he grins, she knows he can hear the fear in her voice. For some reason that's lost on her, he's the only thing in the world that she's afraid of.

He brings his lips to her ear and she can feel his hot breath on her cool skin, making her shiver. She closes her eyes, her breathing ragged. ''You are mine, Ruby,'' He whispers and she can practically taste the whiskey on his breath. ''Do you want to know why? Because no one else would want you.''

She tears her arm from his grasp and pulls away from his eyes, her own irises clouding with a pain that she doesn't understand. ''Stay away from me, Dean.'' She knows he won't.

--00--

Jagged.

Everything around her, everything in her feels jagged, sharp and painful. Her heart feels jagged in her chest, like it's trying to rip it's way out as she leans heavily against a grimy wall in a grimy alley, trying to make herself breathe.

_He's wrong, he's wrong, he's wrong_, She wants to believe but can't quite manage to convince herself it's true.

Footsteps sound, and she knows it's him. ''You know it's true,'' He says. ''You're_ nothing_, Ruby.''

She shakes her head and takes a step back when he takes a step forwards. It's a dangerous game they're playing right now. It could kill them both, they know that, but they can't stop. ''I...'' She tries to say something, but trails off and swallows hard, because she doesn't want to make him angry.

''Oh, come on, do you honestly believe you're some kind of hero? You're a_ demon_. Face it, sweetheart.'' With every word he says, he moves a little closer, and she begs, pleads, _needs_ herself to move away, but she doesn't. ''You're nothing but a hell whore.''

With something wet and umfamiliar - tears she realizes with a start - brimming in her eyes, she closes her eyes and wishes for the hurting to stop. ''Why are you doing this?'' She hasn't realized how close he is until now, when he reaches forwards and grabs her, pulling her to him.

''I don't want to want you, Ruby.''

The way he says her name makes her shiver. She's scared, trembling actually, but their close proximity is making her feel something else too. Something only slightly less terrifying. He looks at her, almost like he's looking right through her. Rough hands move to her face, and she get's a look in his eyes now. Her heart shakes in her chest and sobs ache in her throat.

Everyone else sees a hero in Dean Winchester, but all Ruby can see is the monster.

_''No.''_ All of a sudden, his eyes shift from beastly to agonized and he pushes her away with such force that she hits the wall and slides to the ground. He's turned away from her now, fists clenched, breathing erratic, almost as if he's trying to protect her from the evil lurking inside of his quickly darkening soul.

She starts to wonder if he's losing it.

''Dean,'' Her voice sounds strained, as she looks at the man who's coming unglued right in front of her. ''What do you want?''

''Don't you get it?!'' He whirls around to face her and she can see all the emotions shining in his green eyes. ''I want you!'' She flinches at how harsh his voice is. ''I want you, and I'm not supposed to! You're no good. You're evil.''

She closes her eyes and a few tears escape, because she's so afraid he's right. ''I'm not...not evil.''

''Oh, give me a break,'' He sneers. ''You know you are.'' It's just for one second that she looks away, but it's enough, and the next thing she knows his hands are pulling her off the ground. ''You can feel it can't you? The evil. It's in your blood, your veins, your genetic make-up.''

''No,'' She struggles weakly against his hold, but he simply holds her tighter. ''I'm not evil.''

_''Don't lie to me!''_

She feels herself breaking, breaking, breaking apart and isn't sure what to do. ''Stop,'' She whispers, pleading and broken.

''Do you really want me to stop?''

Freeze.

Everything freezes. Their eyes lock and hold and she stops fighting and lets him come closer and whisper in her ear, six little words that seal her fate forever. ''I can make you lose control.''

Along with her control, she loses everything else left in her. He kisses her, hard and brusing, and his lips burn her. She's still terrified of him, of what he's becoming, and she knows she should fight back, she knows she should have the strength to win this fight, but every kiss, everything burning touch, seems to take away her strength, and she knows sooner or later, there's going to be nothing left of her. But she lets him take her, take everything she is, and everything she could be, and she lets him bruise and break her, and she likes it.

''Tell me you're mine,'' He growls in her ear.

And his hold on her must be more then physical, because she answers, ''I'm yours,'' and feels like she means it.

--00--

Now, everything's burning, burning, burning, and she feels it all as he kisses her rough and hard, like he's trying to get away from her when all he's really doing is bringing her closer, closer, closer.

Maybe he's trying to protect himself, maybe he knows he's going to become a demon, and just wants to get a jump on things, maybe he's afraid of her like she's afraid of him. Or maybe he's just a monster. She used to be able to tell. Not anymore. She can't tell. She's not sure. She's not even sure of herself anymore, she's not sure that she's really here, she's not sure that this isn't a really horrible nightmare.

Their...._encounters_ are always different.

Sometimes, all he does is take, unwilling to give, bruising her, leaving her battered and hurt. Other times, there are moments, just sweet little moments, where he looks at her, and she can see the man he used to be.

When she collapses one day, after a bad night, and he finds out she hasn't been eating, or sleeping, he forces food down her throat and threatens to knock her out if she doesn't get some sleep.

It's only then that she realizes there are two sides to Dean Winchester.

The hero and the villian.

And they're both duking it out, fighting, battling, over _her._

The hero just wants to save her from what he's becoming, from what he knows he could do to her, and the villian just wants to break her and make her scream.

She's pretty sure she's in love with both of them.

--00--

Time passes, Sam finds out, and Dean lies.

She says nothing when he feeds his little brother beautiful lies, because she doesn't want to make him angry. She stays silent and plays the role of the devoted girlfriend flawlessly.

She prays Sam will see through his brother's lies, see the fear on her face, she prays he'll help her. But she knows, even if he does see everything that's going on behind closed doors, he won't say anything, because he's Sam Winchester and he'll go down with his brother no matter what.

Just like she expects, Sam buys the story Dean tells him, and accepts their 'relationship' even though he really shouldn't.

--00--

Time passes, and she hates herself a little more with each passing day.

Because when he touches her, when he kisses her, she burns. But the thing that really gets her, the thought that makes her sick to her stomach, is that she likes it. She craves it, craves him, craves the destruction he leaves behind every time he hurts her. She needs the pain and the hurt and carnage because without it, there's nothing.

She's nothing.

She needs him like he's a powerful, addictive drug. She lets him burn her and reduce her to ruins, just to feel. He terrifies her, frightens her, scares her, he shakes her to her core, but, _God_, she get's off on it.

She loves him, even though the Angel's slowly becoming the Devil.

He was right.

She is a hell whore.

--00--

Time passes, and she wants out.

She knows it will be hard, there will be withdrawls, and night's where she'll want to go back to him. It could very well kill her to lose him, but he's killing her already, so she figures she doesn't have much to lose.

She just can't take feeling afraid anymore.

But does she honestly think he's going to let her go?

''Please,'' She crying again, tonight. All she ever does is cry, and she's burn, burn, burning, her aching body covered with just a single white sheet. White. The color of innocence, when in reality, she's anything but innocent. ''Let me go.''

She used to hate girls who beg and plead and cry. She used to hate those battered girlfriends, who let those horrible men do awful things to them. She used to think they were weak and pathetic, and maybe, just maybe, they deserved what they got. Now, she's one of them.

Well, that's karma for you.

Unlike her, he's fully dressed, standing over her with that cruel smirk on his face. ''Why would I do that?'' He bends down to her level and reaches out a hand to touch her face. She manages to force herself not to flinch.

''Dean, you're better than this.''

He freezes and his eyes, so cruel and frightening, grow hollow and desolate, almost sad. ''No, I'm not.''

''You are.'' She thinks maybe she can save him and keep him at the same time, if she can just get through to him. ''You are, Dean, you're better than this. You're a good man,'' Her hands move forwards and she grasps his shirt in her hands, desperate to save herself, and keep him with her. ''You just have to stop this. You have to stop hurting me. _You have to stop_.''

For a second, his eyes look apologetic, like he wants to take her away from this empty life they're living, but the apology is gone before the words can even form, and his eyes turn tortured. ''I can't.''

''Please, Dean,'' She's trying not to cry and sob and break in front of him. She's trying not to be afraid. But around him, she can't not be afraid. All she can do is be the little girl playing with the Devil. ''This isn't you. You know this isn't you,'' She's grasping at straws now. ''You're not a bad person. You're a hero.''

She realizes too late, that she shouldn't have said that.

His eyes harden, grow cold and dead, and he stands, shoving her away from him roughly, so hard, she's sure there's going to be a bruise there tomorrow on her fragile mortal body. It's strange. She rarely ever has visible bruises. He knows how to hurt her so bad, without ever leaving a single mark on her perfect skin. He always hurts her just enough to make her cry. Because it's not worth it, if she doesn't cry.

His hands curl into fists and he glares. ''I'm not a hero,'' His voice is haunted, and he sounds almost as broken as her for a second. But, it's just for a second and the torture and fear are soon replaced by anger. ''I'm a monster.''

And she cries harder, because she knows it's true.

--00--

Time passes and she finds herself becoming quieter and quieter until she gets to the point where she barely speaks.

She still whimpers and cries when she takes a beating, and she still moans and screams when he burns her, but other then that, there's only silence.

She goes through stages now. Sometimes, she hates him and just wants to get away, sometimes, she loves him and will do anything to bring herself closer to him. One thing stays the same though. No matter what she feels, love or hate, she always feels afraid.

It's a very sick and twisted life she's living, a dangerous game she's playing, and there's a part of her that wants it all to stop, but an even bigger part of her, that wouldn't have it any other way.

She wonders sometimes, is she weak because she really is just a little girl playing with the Devil? Or does she think it's penance?

--00--

She hits the ground, landing on her hands and knees, her cheek stinging with pain. With a small moan, she shakes her head to clear her vision, and in her head, she mentally counts how many days he has left before he leaves her forever.

Nine.

Nine days. Nine more days and then she's free of him. She's not sure how to feel about that.

Unsuccessfully, she tries to crawl away from him. He won't let her go, he'll never let her go. He grabs her and pulls her to her feet, shoving her into the wall, grinning when she cries out.

The hero's gone now. Dead and gone, and the monster's taken up residence in green eyes.

She winces in pain and sobs brokenly, because that's all she is now. Broken cries, and unseen bruises on a battered soul. Just a little girl playing with the Devil. She's not a demon, not a hunter, not a human. She's just...here. Wasting space. She's nothing.

''Do you think....'' He drawls, and his voice makes her shake enough that it sends her falling to the scratchy carpet. ''...That if I beat you enough, you would actually die? No, probably not. What would happen, then? What would happen if I beat you down until I had nothing left in me?''

She lets out a strangled scream, because she can see it in her head. Blood. Lots of blood. So much blood. Too much. He'll be tired, she'll be destroyed, possibly to the point where she won't be able to recover ever again. ''Don't,'' She begs, and he growls at her plea. Salty tears sting her open wounds as they roll down her face. ''Just one night,'' She whispers, and wishes the hero would shine through and save her from the monster. ''That's all I want, Dean. Just one night free from_...this_.'' Holding her arm, which she's sure is fractured, she rises to her feet and stands as still as she can, hoping if she doesn't move, he won't hurt her. ''Can't you stop hurting me for one night?''

He looks at her for a moment, and then scowls, crossing the distance and slamming his hands on the wall, beside her head, making her jump. ''No, I can't.'' One of his arms loops around her waist and holds her tighter, pressing her up against his body. ''Now, tell me you love me.''

One single gulping sob escapes bloodied lips and then she swallows and manages to regain some composure. ''I love you.''

''Tell me you need me.''

''I need you.'' And with her body pressed into his, still trembling, only now not just with fear, she knows that statement's more true then ever.

''Tell me you're mine.''

For a split second, she almost fights back and says ''I'm not yours!'' But she doesn't, because she's just not that strong, he's taken her strength. So, instead, she wraps her arms around his neck and wishes he would hurry up and burn her already. ''I'm yours.''

--00--

The night he dies, she doesn't cry. She watches invisible claws tear him apart, she watches blood pour out of him, taking him to the fires of hell and far away from her. She watches him die, and she doesn't cry.

Sam cries.

She doesn't. She thinks months of abuse and crying her eyes out, shivering on the bathroom floor have made her tears run dry. She thinks she should feel something. Relief, sorrow, anything at all really, but all she feels is empty as she stumbles into a crappy motel room and leans heavily against the door, sure her legs are going to give out on her soon. She doesn't know what to do now. She's not sure how to live life without the pain.

Her human body is tired, more then physically, and sore, not just from unseen bruises. She stares into the darkness of the motel room for a moment and waits with a tense body, for the noise to start. There has to be noise. There's always noise. But nothing happens. It's so quiet.

She can't remember the last time it was so quiet. She can't remember the last time a night hadn't been filled with her cries, or his yells. The silence is a different kind of pain.

What happpens next, comes as a shock to her. She starts to cry. Soft sobs, powerful enough to send her sinking to the ground. Tears she thought had run dry roll down her cheeks as she sobs into her hands.

This is it.

No more hurting, no more burning, no more screaming, or begging, or pleading. Just silence. No more. She's free.

It's over.

It's different this time. In the past, she's cried because of the pain, because she just loved him too damn much to leave, she's cried because she couldn't get away, because she thought it was her fault that the monster replaced the hero. She's cried for so many reasons. But this time, this time, as she sobs into the darkness of an unfamiliar room, all alone, without his touch, her skin cool and not burning at all, she cries for a different reason.

She cries because it's over.

--00--

She really should have known better.

It's not over, it's _never_ over.

Because two weeks later, in the bathroom of a motel she won't even remember in a few days, the stick turns pink, her head aches, her world shifts dramatically, and then he's there, but not really, leaning against the wall, cruel smirk in place, monster shining through green eyes. ''Well, well, well,'' He drawls, and she feels the bile rise in her throat. ''Looks like I left behind more then a car.''

It's never going to be over.

_**the end**_

**AN: So now can you see why this story was so hard to write? I love, love, love Dean Winchester. I am completely obsessed with the man and you will never know how hard it was for me to turn him into a monster. I felt so guilty after I wrote this story. But, I'm also strangely proud of it. Well, I hope I left you all depressed! Let me know what you thought of it!**

**Kisses, Becks**


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